


Just Following Orders

by Zakani_Donovan



Series: Well, That Was A Thing (Good Omens One-Shots) [34]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley was a healing starmaker before the Fall, Established Relationship, Gay, Guilt, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), War wounds, good omens - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zakani_Donovan/pseuds/Zakani_Donovan
Summary: They say time heals all wounds, but that's not entirely true for supernatural entities.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Well, That Was A Thing (Good Omens One-Shots) [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800655
Kudos: 39





	Just Following Orders

**Author's Note:**

> Context: Aziraphale has some old wounds from The First Rebellion and Crowley tries to do something about it.

_**Crowley's POV:** _

Moving to the South Downs was the third best decision Crowley had ever made. With the first being introducing himself to Aziraphale 6 millennia ago, and the second being asking the angel to marry him, of course. The pair had gotten quite cozy with their new home and hobbies. The demon had so much more space for his gardening and he loved it. His old flat's plant room paled in comparison to their backyard. It was like his own little Eden, minus the mountains and the waterfall, though he **did** get a koi pond to have some kind of water feature.

While his husband was toiling away outside, Aziraphale was indoors entertaining himself with a myriad of things. Reading, of course, was his first true love (sorry Crowley, it took him a while). He also realized he enjoyed cooking just as much as he liked eating, and that he was a quick learner when it came to art. That last one was completely accidental. He and Crowley decided to paint the cottage before they moved in and after the demon accidentally got the wrong color onto the wrong spot, Aziraphale turned it into a decent looking sunset in the corner of the wall. He was going to paint over it, but Crowley insisted they keep it, saying it gave the house more character.

Rather than using a canvas, Aziraphale preferred to paint landscapes on small, smooth river rocks. Crowley thought it was adorable, the way he'd finish one and leave it somewhere in the house for him to find. The most recent one had been a field of sunflowers. His favorite, so far, was the one with white waterlilies. Crowley kept that one on his nightstand.

Today, Aziraphale wanted to paint one of the boulders near the koi pond. He decided to paint a Japanese temple onto it. He had just finished his outline, about to start with the colors but he felt a sharp pain shoot down the length of his right arm. He let out a yelp and Crowley dropped the hose to run to his side.

_Angel!_

"What's wrong?" He asked, falling to his knees to be at his angel's aid.

Aziraphale shook his head as he clutched his right shoulder. "I didn't mean to startle you, dearest. Just an old wound flaring up. Should go away in a bit."

"Why not just miracle it away? Make things easier." He said, about to snap his fingers.

The blond stopped him. "That's never really worked. Holy wound, and all."

The demon's anxiety died down. "Oh..." Logically speaking, Crowley knew Aziraphale fought in The First Rebellion. It was obvious! He was a warrior, for crying out loud. He was in charge of a platoon, and he was damn good with his sword before he gave it away. But they never really talked about the war because Aziraphale didn't want to bring up Crowley's Fall. Thanks to this unspoken rule, he had never told the redheaded about the injuries he sustained in battle.

Crowley hated feeling helpless. "What **can** I do?"

"Don't worry about me, dear. It'll pass, just like it always does. Perhaps I'll continue this affair tomorrow, so I can rest my shoulder a bit." Said the angel as he picked up his supplies.

The redhead "You sure?"

"It's happened many times over the millennia, I'm used to it. I'll be fine. I'll be heading inside now." Insisted Aziraphale.

"You'll scream if you need anything, yeah?"

The angel nodded and kissed his forehead. "Of course, love."

Crowley watched as he went into their home, and only focused on his plants again when the water from the hose he had dropped reached his knees. With a snap of his fingers, it shut off and the excess water disappeared into the ether. He didn't last too long in the garden. Once he made sure his flowers wouldn't drown, he went upstairs to his husband. The incident wasn't mentioned for the rest of the day, but Crowley kept an eye on him, just in case.

~~~~~

The next day, Aziraphale continued painting, as if nothing had happened yesterday. Everything had been fine. He only complained for a moment as he was cooking dinner that night. It was as if the weight of the pot had suddenly turned too heavy in half a second. Since he had tried to keep it to himself, Crowley pretending he heard nothing, he did a quick Google search. Unfortunately, there aren't any articles about injuries that flare up every thousand years.

~~~~~

On the third day, he and Aziraphale had woken up pleasantly as the early morning rays flooded their bedroom. The angel had his face buried in Crowley's neck and wished he hadn't shifted to lift himself up, because it ruined their cozy moment. Pain shot through his arm again and he sat up immediately as he winced. Since he was shirtless, Crowley could now see what he hadn't yesterday and the day before that.

The wound pulsed from beneath Aziraphale's skin, looking like cracked glass. Since angel blood is golden, his shoulder seemed to glow a bit with every throb. He could've sworn he heard a sizzle as well. It was awful and fascinating at the same time. But mainly, he felt bad and wanted to help.

_It's holy **and** internal!... What did they do to you? Surely wounds aren't supposed to bloody hibernate, even if holy!_

Crowley's hand reached out, weary, but he held back at the very last moment. "How often does this happen? You seem more used to it than you should be."

"Every few centuries, it'll make its presence known again. It's annoying as anything, but I can get passed it. It was much harder when it was still fresh. Trust me love, I'll be fine." Insisted the blond as he tried to pretend everything was fine.

The skinny demon's eyes never left the wound. "Aziraphale... Raphael is still in Heaven. She never Fell. Why didn't you go to her to get this healed?"

Raphael was easily the most likable archangel of the bunch. She seemed to be the only sibling who didn't let the title go to her head. For being different, the other four would shun her into staying with her healers and starmakers. Crowley preferred working on the stars with Lucifer, but Raphael had insisted he was the best healer in Heaven, after herself, so he would often divide his time between them.

Aziraphale sighed, still clutching his shoulder. "I did. Many times. She could only suppress the pain for a bit. It always came back. Finally, we decided to pray and ask The Almighty for some help."

"And She's done nothing about it."

"She said it was part of Her plan."

"Well, here I am to fuck up Her plan. **Again**. Let me try." Said the redhead, determined to do something about this.

"Crowley, you haven't used your healing powers on anyone else since you were an angel."

He was silent for a long time, as if he was ashamed of something. Aziraphale can see his jaw clench as he finally admits: "...There's a reason why you didn't see me too much when the Black Death was at an all-time-high." The memory seemed to anger and sadden him at the same time.

Just like that, the principality felt like a fool. His husband had been a healer, and even as a demon, that was still in his nature. Much to the chagrin of his demonic essence. "I hadn't made that connection... I thought you simply disappeared to avoid all the death. Would have never thought you were trying to heal people..."

"Yeah, well, full of surprises, me... Please." Those amber eyes were ripping into him. It was the only time Aziraphale would have preferred Crowley have his sunglasses on.

He wasn't used to seeing Crowley beg. The demon **hated** begging and Aziraphale **knew** that. It had always been the other way around. Whatever the angel wanted, all he had to do was pout about it and the demon would make it happen the very next second. And yet, here he was, begging to help ease the pain of the love of his life. Finally, Aziraphale agreed.

Without saying another word, Crowley started warming up his hands. He rubbed them together until a flame sparked in between them. It flickered and died out in seconds. When he was an angel, it had been holy, rather than hellfire. Luckily, that didn't have anything to do with the healing process, it was mainly done for the patient's comfort. Raphael had always taught them to do as much as possible for whoever they were healing, and considering this wasn't just anyone, he planned on doing much more. After all, to him, Aziraphale deserved that and **beyond**.

He shifted towards him and hovered over his injured shoulder. "You'll tell me if it's too much, right?"

"Of course." Said the angel before holding his breath.

Crowley placed his right hand on the shoulder and his left over the principality's heart. "I'm going to try to strip away some of your fear so I can heal this better. If you feel a tugging inside your chest, it's me. Don't tense up, or the opposite will happen." He explained.

"Did you always do this?"

The redhead shook his head. "No. Upstairs we had the ability to calm whoever we were going to treat. Demon's have a better time manipulating negative emotions, so I've had to switch the approach a bit. Seemed to work well enough before."

_Please, Someone, let it work here too..._

As the seconds passed, Aziraphale could feel the tugging get stronger. It was a strange sensation for sure, but he resisted the urge to tense up, just as instructed. He steadied his breathing and bit into his pillow as he let Crowley's fingers massage the injured tissue. The pain only got worse when the demon dug into his shoulder. It had been more than just trying to ease the pain. Crowley was actively trying to remove its source. All he knew at this very moment was that no one else had gotten this far before.

Crowley's main focus went from trying to numb the pain, to ensuring Aziraphale didn't bleed out. Angel blood may be gold in color, but its texture and smell is all too human in nature: vital to the body and tricky to control with injuries. He had made a small force-field of energy to keep the blood in, as he dug into his shoulder. Aziraphale was definitely sobbing into the pillow at this point, but the demon hadn't noticed. Good thing too, since he had just grazed the tiny thing which had been torturing his angel for millennia.

_There it is. What the hell **are** you?_

He ensured his index finger and his thumb gripped the solid, foreign object before he started pulling it out. As his hand retreated, he sealed and healed Aziraphale's muscles and other tissues. No blood left the angel's body, as the force-filed would not allow it. Thankfully, the worst was over. For the principality, at least. For Crowley? Not so much.

He finally looked at what caused Aziraphale's pain and his own blood ran cold when he saw that it was the tip of an arrow. It shouldn't have shocked him. After all, Aziraphale had told him this had happened in The First Rebellion, and there were plenty of archers in that war. The reason Crowley's heart suddenly ached was because he recognized this type of arrowhead.

_**I** did this to you...?_

Pain gone and numbness setting in, Aziraphale looked up from the pillow, smile as bright as anything. "Darling, I think you've done it! My shoulder feels normal again! You-..." He wasn't able to finish his exclamations because Crowley had disappeared from their bedroom.

~~~~~

_As a rule, every angel in Heaven was trained to fight. No matter what your rank, you **needed** to have the skill in **some** capacity. The training and weapons differed from group to group. The soldiers preferred their swords, the creators had their spears, the archangels brandished their staffs whenever need-be, and the starmakers were very excellent archers. Crowley, known as Zaniel at the time, was especially skilled with a bow and arrow. Even if he didn't use it as it was intended._

_Rather than shooting arrows at training targets, he'd shoot clusters of stardust onto the night sky with his bow. He found it to be very entertaining. And useful, since it worked like a splatter effect and he loved the random patterns it would make. The other starmakers saw this as a waste of his weapon, but they let him be. Not even Raphael chastised him for it._

_The day the rebels attacked, Zaniel had been working until he heard the screams from bellow. He remembered what Lucifer had told him about a plan to make Heaven a better place, and that he was welcome to join his efforts. Not that he had ever specified his **actual** plans to the starmakers, but it was instinct to help their mentor. Especially since Lucifer had never treated him like he was a burden. He encouraged curiosity, unlike the other mentors._

_At first, Zaniel hid, not knowing what to do. It was only when Raphael was getting a bit too overwhelmed by rebels, that he decided to intervene. He summoned his bow and arrows and saved the healer, but did the same to Lucifer who was in a similar situation. Conflicted as he was, Zaniel finally chose Lucifer, he shot anyone who came close to him and didn't think twice about it._

_The young starmaker may have been forgiven for helping the rebels, since The Almighty knew how his heart felt, but he couldn't bring himself to show remorse for his actions. He wanted a change. He wanted to be able to be himself, and so far, it looked like he'd never get that in Heaven. While he didn't regret his choice, he **had** wished it hurt less on the way down. He would say he 'sauntered vaguely downwards' because he hadn't given it much thought before he was already Falling. He also blamed his curious nature. Perhaps, if he hadn't asked so many questions, he never would've chosen Lucifer's side._

~~~~~

Aziraphale searched the whole cottage, garden and Bentley included. His husband was nowhere to be found. The principality knew he couldn't have gone too far on foot, and started listening to logic. Whenever Crowley wasn't in a good mind-space, there were a few things he'd do. The first would be taking a walk through the woods which lead to their cottage. He had a few spots there which he'd sit in to relax. He wasn't there either. Or by the beach. Via process of elimination, Aziraphale finally deduced where his husband went.

The demon was sitting on top of a nearby cliff, hugging himself with both his arms and his wings.

_Should've known you'd come looking for me..._

Aziraphale approached him carefully. "Dearest?"

"I'm sorry..." Said the demon, staring at the crashing waves down below.

"No need to apologize, darling." He said as he sat next to him.

"The arrow was mine... It's my fault you've been dealing with this pain this whole bloody time! Why do you think Raphael couldn't take out the broken piece?"

_My arrow. My stars... Your blood..._

The reason for this was because of the stardust. Only starmakers could mess with that stuff, and it was almost like a fingerprint-lock effect. If Crowley had placed a certain star and Lucifer didn't like how it looked, he had to tell him to change it, as the matter would not bend to his will. Only Crowley's. So even thought not every single starmaker Fell after The First Rebellion, the ones that were still in Heaven couldn't do anything to help Aziraphale. Though, the principality thought it'd be best to not mention that, as it would only upset him more.

The blond reached over and placed a gentle hand on his wings. "Darling, it's alright."

"Like Hell it is!" Yelled the redhead, flinching away.

"Crowley, it was a **war**! You were simply following orders, I do **not** blame you!"

The demon finally looked at his husband. "But I wasn't... Lucifer hadn't forced us to rebel. I **chose** to help him. **You** were the one following orders."

"Even so. I know it wasn't anything personal. I don't believe we met before Eden. You just did what felt right. Had you actually intended to do so, I think you would've made the shot count. You've always been determined."

_How are you so forgiving? So understanding? Anyone else would've thrown me off this cliff._

Crowley said nothing, still feeling guilty. Not having it, the angel reached for his hand. The redhead squeezed it a bit. The skinny being inched closer and the blond kissed his forehead.

"May we go back home, or do you need more time?"

_Probably should. I'm freezing my ass off out here._

Eventually, the serpent shook his head. "Been out here long enough... Let's go home, angel."

And so, they did.

~~~~~

They were in bed, Crowley with his head on Aziraphale's chest. Neither of them had been able to fall asleep. So they were holding each other. They hadn't spoken since coming back, so the silence was deafening. Until Aziraphale remembered something.

"You should know, you saved me with that arrow. In a way."

"That doesn't seem likely, angel."

"I mean it!"

"Uh-huh. How so?"

"I hadn't noticed any prior injuries because I was so preoccupied with the battle. Like I was on autopilot, so much adrenaline coursing through my corporation that I couldn't sense pain. Your arrow made me snap out of it because I couldn't raise my sword anymore. It was only then that I finally noticed how much blood I had lost..."

Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and dragged it towards the back of his skull. He made sure Crowley's fingers were in the exact spot he wanted them. The demon's eyes grew wide as he felt the mark.

_You have a scar?_

Before he could say anything else, his hand was being guided towards the base of his spine and behind his left knee.

_More than one..._

"Had it not been for you, I wouldn't be here right now. So, even if it caused some pain and inconvenience, it lead to us being here together. Incredibly worth it, if you ask me."

"What were these made with?" Asked the demon as his fingers lingered on the scars.

The blond shrugged. "Not quite sure. I know for a fact the one on my head was by a shield. The other two could've been swords or spears."

"Angel..."

Aziraphale placed both his hands on Crowley's face to ensure their eyes met. "Dearest, I know how your mind works. You'll continue to blame yourself, as if you had decided to intentionally hurt me. But I know that wasn't the case. I don't blame you. I never have, I never will, and I would hope that, one day, you can forgive yourself."

_You truly are one of a kind, angel._

"No promises. But... I can give it a shot." Concluded the redhead, turning his head slightly to place a kiss on the principality's palm.

The angel sighed happily. "Thank you, darling."

As he was about to let go of him, Crowley held onto his arm. "Aziraphale, why do you still have these scars? Raphael's abilities should've been able to heal you to perfection."

"Raphael ensured I survived, but I wasn't the only one injured, so she left me in her apprentices' hands while she tended to the most wounded." He explained.

Crowley took his time to ask his follow-up question. "...Do you want me to get rid of them for you?"

_It may take me a while, but I know I can make them seamless._

Aziraphale could see the pleading in his eyes. He wanted to keep helping, even now, after getting rid of his pain.

"Would it be for **my** benefit or **yours**?" He asked.

_Bastard. Saw right through that, eh?_

Crowley almost looked taken aback by the question, and proceeded to grin. "You know me **far** too well."

"I should hope so. After 6,000 years of friendship and pining, moving in together and finally calling you my husband? It'd be a crime if I **didn't** know you. Don't you think?" Asked the principality as he planted a kiss on Crowley's forehead.

_Fuck, I love you so much._

The demon said nothing and buried his face into Aziraphale's neck. They settled back into bed and the subject was dropped. The angel kept his scars and the demon began forgiving himself.


End file.
